Memory of Morning (18 page)

"But did you enjoy Mr. Crow's company?" Seeli asked. "Did he enjoy yours?"

"I did, and I believe he liked my conversation well enough. I shall invite him to the our musicale next week. And I shall include Miss Garden. There is quite a spark between the two of them."

Seeli sighed loudly. "Meggie, the point is to find a husband for yourself, not for other young women."

"The Season is young yet," I said. I stretched, then returned to my seat at the writing desk. I took up my pen. "There is so much news to send cousin Pel it might take me a week to finish this letter."

"Please do not," Abethe said. "I find the idea of communicating with family we will never see again disturbing. It is very sad."

"I've been to the New Islands," I said. "The journey is long, but not that difficult."

"For now," Abethe said. "But what about when the Storm Tides return? There is no crossing the great ocean then."

"Of course the Storm Tides will return with the Red Moon, but that's not for at least five or six generations. Surely someone will discover a way to sail through the storms by then."

"Being long dead, we won't have to be concerned about it," Seeli said. "Will you get dressed, Meggie?"

A knock sounded on the door as she spoke. A moment later Bell and Rhane came in, along with our maid from home, Ajaa Rose. We'd grown up with Ajaa and she was very dear to us. This was her last months in service, as she would be starting university on one of Father's honeyherb scholarships in the fall.

"You're not ready yet?" Belladem questioned. She threw up her hands.

"Oh, no!" Rhane declared.

I was amused by this show of panic, but I did not argue when Ajaa took my arm and led me to the closet. "Don't worry, misses," she told them. "I'll have her ready in a moment."

"Just who is Lady Harrier?" Mother asked as the coach pulled up at the entrance of the exhibition hall.

"She is one of the highest of the high nobles of the north," Aunt Gwin answered. "Her seat is on Dalraida, and she is the emperor's representative to the great northern houses."

"That is impressive," Mother said. "What is she doing holding a party for a troop of Ang Seekers?"

"The Season is being held for everyone in the Empire," Aunt Gwin said. "Most of the great nobles are sponsoring official functions. Besides, the craftspeople and merchants of the northern islands hold a cultural exhibit every few years. This year's show happens to coincide with the Season. Lady Harrier took the opportunity to blend the two occasions to serve a double purpose."

I quite approved of this woman's sense of economy. We all alighted from our coach and made our way up a wide set of shallow marble stairs and into the building's entrance area.

Aunt Gwin continued with her tale of Lady Harrier as we surrendered bonnets, jackets, and shawls and were shown the way to the first of several display halls.

"Lady Harrier must have fifty of the northern islands in her fief. Of course, most of them are likely only a few acres in size, but she does possess great tracts of timber forests. She and Lord North have a son together, who is heir to both their properties, I believe."

I came to a halt so fast that I almost stepped out of my shoes. "A son? But - I saw Lord North in white a few nights ago."

"I didn't say they were married, I said they had an heir. I believe they did their duty and parted, but remain on very amicable terms."

"You are not usually interested in nobles' gossip, Megere," Mother said. "Do you have some personal interest in your admiral's affairs?"

"Of course not," I answered. "It must simply be the spirit of the Season catching hold of me - where everyone longs to know who is involved with who."

Why, oh why, did Lord North's name and person keep snagging my attention? It was most annoying. And what did Aunt Gwin mean by
amicable?

This cultural exhibit was set up as a wonderful opportunity to shop as we strolled from hall to hall. We watched demonstrations of the arts famous in the north: weaving, carving, jewelry making, leatherwork. There was an outdoor demonstration of ship building, the most famous of all northern crafts. I took more time examining this clinker-built fast boat than my companions liked, but then, they had no interest in spending more time at sea than is necessary to go from island to island.

Back inside there were musicians, singers, folk dancing lessons, a poetry reading. All in all, it was a very pleasant afternoon. There were many booths selling the craft wares and I managed to purchase several Winter Solstice presents under the noses of intended recipients.

Being the Season, the exhibit was not only intended as a showcase for crafts, but another venue for Seekers to meet and flirt and make contacts. That flirting part of the day also went well, at least for me. I noticed Abethe ignoring every effort any gentleman made to get past anything more than an introduction and comments about the weather.

I eventually put my arm through hers and said, "Come along, let us find something to eat. And, yes, food is my answer to everything," I added, which got her to smile.

Buffet tables had been set up in a conservatory at the rear of the hall. We had to work our way through quite a crowd to attain even a sight of the food. After a major skirmish to reach the plates and forks I came away with some wonderful cheese, preserves spread on flatbread, and a slice of cake made from oat flour.

"Imagine," I said to Abethe as we made our way out of the crush. "I didn't even know oats could be made into a flour."

"If something isn't from Ang, you really aren't interested, are you?"

"I have traveled the world, cousin."

"On an Angish ship, among Angish companions, to Angish ports," she countered. "You are a typically insular Angish woman."

"Well, I can't see anything wrong with that."

"Nor I," she said. "Or I would leave the farm more often. I wish I were home now."

I had hoped to lighten her mood, but now her expression went sad and weary. I looked around for some other diversion. "Who are those people by the palm trees?" I asked. I gestured with my fork.

Abethe looked toward the tropical display in the center of the room where a half dozen or so nobles sat and stood around a grouping of benches beneath a glass-domed ceiling. "While I do not have your Aunt Gwin's knowledge of the elite, I would guess that the woman seated in the center of the group is Lady Harrier herself. The boy playing with tops at her feet is likely her son. I do not know who the two gentlemen hovering by her are, or the lady seated to the side. I would guess that the other woman standing near the boy is his governess."

I had guessed who the central lady must be. She had red hair, cut, curled, and threaded with a gleaming string of jewels. The boy at her feet also had red hair. The lady wore black, the bodice decorated with a design done in jet beads. She looked as bored as could be as she looked upon the guests who came up to offer their thanks and pleasantries.

Only for the poor servant to have the tray knocked from his hands as a whirlwind in naval uniforms pushed through the room. The crowd parted as quickly as we could, leaving the way open for the officers to stride up to Lady Harrier's party.

The little boy looked up, grinned, and ran forward. He was picked up and swung into the air.

Lady Harrier rose, smiling. She held out her hands.

Lord North tucked the boy under one arm and grabbed Lady Harrier around the waist with the other. He then gave a quick glance around the room, which had gone still and silent with shock at such bold behavior.

For a moment I thought his gaze caught mine before looking through me, but I was sure I was mistaken that he saw me at all.

His attention went back to Lady Harrier. "Biti, my love! How long has it been? Yes, daddy loves you," he said to the boy. "But let me talk to mama for now."

The next part of the conversation involved Lord North's bending down to give
Biti
a thorough and enthusiastic kiss.

Just how
amicable
was the separation between this couple?

Abethe hurriedly made her way from the conservatory. I went with her. She looked as annoyed and shocked as I felt at this scandalous public behavior by these disgraceful northerners. Though perhaps I felt it a bit more keenly.

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Don't touch me!" The patient pushed the nurse away and turned his glare on me. "I don't want your help, either."

The patient was a cleric, a Gracer with a head wound, rescued from a brawl and brought to Mercy Home by the local street guard. He'd been unconscious when he was carried into the walk-in room, slung over the guard's wide shoulder. Unfortunately, the cleric had woken up and started giving us trouble before I could treat him.

At least his black cleric's tabard wouldn't show the blood.

I picked up casebook and pen. The patient continued to mutter and complain while I made notes. I had worked several day shifts at Mercy Home, but this was my first night working walk-in. It had been a quiet night up until now. I had a woman in labor in the maternity ward, but the delivery was going normally.

The guard had told me the cleric had been shouting at a group of refugees and started a fight. But that was not the cleric's story.

"Drunken sailors attacked me! They threatened me and hit me!" He tried to stand, groaned, and fell back on the exam table. He put a hand to his head. "Do you plan to let me bleed to death? Help me!"

He at last let me have my way with him. He was a shouter, noisily complaining every time my needle pierced his skin, even though he had plenty of numbing gel on his forehead. My last glance back at him after I stitched him up showed him meekly accepting a thimble of poppy concentrate from the nurse. I scrubbed up and changed to a clean smock, then went to the delivery room. Things were coming to a conclusion in there. The baby came easily, with very little help from me. I congratulated the parents and once again left the nurse to finish up while I went to scrub and change again.

I could have sworn I heard Captain Copper shouting in the distance as I rinsed my hands.

I dried off with a fresh towel and walked out into the hallway. I paused beneath a moss lamp, listening, sure I'd imagined it. But there was no mistaking that voice when it rang out again.

"Say something, woman!" he shouted.

I ran toward the sound. Along the way I caught up with Mistress Reed, who was doing the same. We turned a corner and stopped at the sight of a big naval officer leaning over a small, gray-clad woman. He waved a piece of paper at her.

"Dr. Cliff?" He peered at me. "Good gods, you haven't joined this foolish cult, too?"
I happened to be wearing my gray and yellow dress beneath a fresh white smock. "I--"

"We are neither foolish, nor a cult," Mistress Reed declared. "Please leave before I send for the local guard."

He shook the paper at her. "I have every right to stand before my accuser." He looked back at the Gray Woman. "Whether you'll speak to me or not, there is a great deal I have to say."